Console the Crying Child
by SugarButter
Summary: Marion panics as he cannot find his friend, and with good reason. Human! Marionette. Warnings inside. Check warnings before reading.


**Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, Suggested Rape, Undescribed Bloody Scene(s), Potential Gore (minimal), Dark**

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Lights flashed. Voices screamed. Tears ran. Shadows leaned.

Marion Afton looked around in a panic for the familiar face as he wiped his tears that continued to fall. He needed the older boy to latch onto his hand, give him a hug, maybe hum him a tune and tell him it was all right. He heard a voice call out his name but he knew it wasn't who he was looking for.

He tripped over his old hand-me-down shoes from his brother as he threw open Pirate's Cove. It tended to be the best bet when trying to find the boy, but to no avail. The light activated Foxy enough for his eyes to glow yellow. His eyepatch had lifted as he looked at the young brunette boy.

"Foxy, where's Mikey? I can't find him!" Marion began to panic again. The fox laid a hand silently on his shoulder and steered him out. "Aye lad, try the back room. The landlubber may be tinkerin' ole Fredbear again." The small boy raced out again, throwing open the door to the back room to find Gabriel and Natalie both pacing nervously, hands tangled in their own hair. "G-Gabe? What's," he gulped, "going on?"

"Please tell me you know where Mike is. Please, they won't tell us whose gone missing!" Marion's heart dropped. It couldn't be Michael who was snagged... could it?

Tears ran. Voices became blurred messes. He couldn't't talk. No. No. _No._ It couldn't be. It wouldn't be Mikey. He wouldn't do that to the boy.

But, he rationalized, the older boy couldn't control if he was taken. He, without a doubt, was a fighter. But he couldn't overpower so much as to have the luck of escaping. That thought only made the tears come harder as he silently sobbed.

He didn't even remember the two teenagers' arms wrapping around his own slender frame.

Michael woke with a gasp, struggling against the binds. He tried crying out but quickly realized his mouth was full of a thick cloth. A gag. He attempted to spit it from his mouth but it was wound tightly around his head and jaw. The feeling of helplessness only made him whimper.

His eyes quickly had adjusted to the dark and he found himself in against two walls. He tried pushing himself away from the corner of the extremely dark room and quickly felt the other wall. He finally realized his feet were pressed against the fourth wall and it became apparent that he was trapped in a box.

Whoever had done his bounds had done them tightly, but didn't account for his small wrists and slender hands. He folded his hands and twisted his wrists, feeling the ropes sliding his hands painfully through the twine material. Eventually his hands were all the way through and he rolled his shoulders, bringing his hands into his line of sight.

He then quickly untied the ropes around his ankles. He often would untie ropes around animatronic pieces for his father, which the kidnapper clearly didn't account for. He discarded the first rope and moved on to untie two more before he finally had his ankles free.

He was vaguely aware his clothing was different but up until now it wasn't a priority. He willed his eyes to adjust around his torso and could faintly tell of the khaki shorts and polo shirt, though couldn't tell the colours. All he could tell was of the stripes.

He was _sore_ , he decided and cracked his neck, which was more painful than satisfying. A voice rang out excitedly and he heard a gasping voice and it dawned on him. There were _others_.

He waited for the footsteps and- he cringed as he realized the lady was being dragged behind him- to fade before opening the top of the box with ease and being flooded with light. His box looked nearly like a Christmas present; green with purple stripes in the middle of each side. He could only guess the top had some sort of bow design.

He glanced in the direction of where the man- assuming it was a man by the thump of his boots and his strength- had gone before peering over to another box nearby. With difficulty, he pulled himself from the box and made his way to the other box. He hadn't braced himself for the amount of blood. "Hello?" He whispered softly, and despite the lack of a gag he didn't get a response. He closed the box and looked to the next one.

He gently opened the box, hoping he wouldn't see the same scene and luckily he didn't. Instead he found a girl about his age, looking fearfully towards him and he could hear the light pant of fear. "Shh, don't worry. I'm hear to help you. I'm Mikey." He pulled down her gag before going to work on her bounded ankles. "I'm C-Connie."

He nodded as he flew through the knots, tilting her back to work on her wrists. "Are the other boxes also-"  
"They're empty. He recently dumped the failures. He said he's saving me until it works. He probably plans the same for you... everybody else was adults. She was the last-" They heard a scream of pain. Quickly they heard another cry of anger. "The last one..."

He got her wrists unbound and helped her from the box. "Do you know where we get out?" She shook her head. "Me neither. Stick close."

She gave a noise at the thumping of boots. "He's coming!" They ducked in her box and pulled the top on. Soon they heard a huff as he realized his top was off. He went off- presumably to find the boy- and the two got back out. "Come on!"

It was clear that he said that two loud and the man came racing back in. The two yelped as they ran across what Mike recognized as a stage and pulled her into the satin curtains in the nick of time. "Come out, come out. Wherever you are. You little brats!" The two stayed silent as he passed. He silently gestured to be quiet as they tiptoed from the curtains and he jumped from the large stage. She struggled but jumped, making a slight noise. He guided her along, seeing double doors at the end of the long way of chairs and stairs and could only hope that would get them out of there.

"Aha!" They ran as fast as their little legs could go, Connie falling behind quickly before tripping. Mike ran back to help her up, noticing how close he was and shoved her. "Run! Connie run!" He turned and hopped on a chair, jumping on the man's back before he could turn. He wrapped his hands around his thick neck, switching to his arms when he clearly wasn't affecting him. "Gerroff, you little-" the breath was sucked from him as he swung his leg around his waist and used the inertia to shove his heel into the man's large gut. He tried to take a staggering breath but his tight arms held him back and he mentally cursed, attempting to throw the boy from his back.

Meanwhile, Connie stopped and turned around to find the boy who saved her fighting the man. She felt guilt wash over her. She was attempting to run at the cost of the boy likely getting killed. How much was her soul worth? Certainly not the life of her hero.

She ran back, hearing a cry from Michael to turn back around but she didn't listen. Their kidnapped slammed his back against a pillar, causing Mike to lose his grip and fall to the ground.

It was only then she noticed the metal leg, but shrugged it off. She'd have her shock later, right now the boy needed her. The man scoffed and bent over the boy, smirking. He pressed a foot against his chest and easily caught the girl as she finally caught up and attempted to hit him. She kicked and butted at him, but he already had a towel of chloroform over her mouth and she quickly was out.

Mike stirred on the ground around this time and the man bent down again, smirking and pulling off the boy's clothes easily.

"N-no!" He cried out and attempted to flail his arms, but one hand held his arms above his head as the other one worked down his own pants.

"Sorry Michael, but you have this coming." He really wasn't sorry as he dove in.

Marion's grip tightened onto Natalie's front. It had been mere hours since Mikey disappeared and the police had explained he likely would have at least 24 hours, yet Marion had convinced himself that it was his fault. That Mike was already dead and it was because of him.

She softly hummed, attempting to console the crying child.

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 **Author's Note: I suppose this is dark and definitely is sad. I declare against Chippen Kitten a feels war! ...no, that's a joke. I've been pondering this story for a while.**

 **If anybody actually wants me to continue, I will. Probably make it a two- or three-part. I already know what I would write and stuff. Just unsure if anybody will actually like this, I was planning on a one-shot. But, eh. I haven't posted in a while and I suppose you can call this a teaser to what could be if you wanted.**

 **This is based off of an Alternate Universe of Mable's Can't Go Home Again. I highly recommend it if you haven't already read it. It even has a sequel! It's the same AU as Rough Deck, where Mike's dad is Henry Johnson and he was the bite of '87. I listened to 'After Hours' by J.T. Machinima and decided after that to create this AU.**

 **Sorry I've been very busy and haven't written for a while. :/ Finals are coming up soon and eugh. Just a small update. But until next time!**

 **~GalaxyMegaGirl**


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